Hungrygrrl» Blog Archive » Elemental (Wallingford)

Elemental (Wallingford)

September 5, 2006 at 4:46 pm , by sara

This is not a place you go to lightly.

We tried to go two weeks ago on a Tuesday and were met by a sign saying simply “Full. Come back at 8:30.” No waiting list. No reservations. No drinks at the bar.

It’s a small place, spare, with single filament bulbs. There were only three people working when we arrived, and two of them were the owners (Laurie and Phred). The other was a dishwasher.

Laurie and Phred have chosen to focus on making a perfect dinner for just a few (5 tables), rather than a mediocre dinner for many. Laurie cooks, Phred serves the food and chooses wine. They have created quite a stir. Seattle is not a town where people are used to being turned away.

We went again this past saturday (it was my birthday after all). This time we tried arriving at 8:30. The little sign was there again. “How long?”we asked. “At least an hour and a half,” Phred snapped as he swooped up four glasses of wine from the bar. His stress seemed out of context, the place so quiet with just 5 tables.

But I persisted.

“Can we wait?” I asked, pointing to a group of white arm chairs.

“Fine,” he replied. “But I may not be able to get to you.”

We sat, relaxed, talked. In half an hour he returned with two small glasses of clear liquid. “To clear the palate,” he pronounced, and sped off again.

As we sat a threesome came in, asked Phred about the wait, left for 5 minutes and then returned, expecting that things would have changed. Phred told them “2 hours minimum” and they stormed off screaming, “I guess you don’t want our business!”

A few minutes later a couple arrived and Phred greeted them warmly, his face softening as he placed his hands on the woman’s pregnant belly.

It’s clear your experience at Elemental depends on whether Phred likes you.

At 9:30 he led us to our table. “Cocktails?” he asked. “Manhattan, Sazerac, Side Car.” “Margarita?” I queried, but then regretted it. It sounded unsophisticated.

“You’ll try something new,” he said. He returned with a Manhattan for my boyfriend (a beautiful rich drink with a hint of cherry) and for me… a margarita. But better. Pure agave tequila, fresh orange juice, amaretto and vermouth. It was wonderful. I drank the whole thing, despite my boyfriend’s concerned expression.

And then the food began. They have small plates, large plates, and a special deal if you have one from each column (3 for 36$). We both went for the special, starting with a crab, mango and spinach appetizer that was so simple and pure it felt almost perfect. Then there was smoked duck, also simple, carefully cooked, but not a stand out. Chicken with tamarind sauce, tomato stuffed with fresh corn, lamb steaks. They all rolled over us. Not because they were bad, but because they were so pure, just the flavor of each, unadorned.

And perhaps because of all the wine. A new glass came with each course, sometimes two. With the first glass I tentatively sipped, “gewurtztraminer?” I asked, “Riesling!” he responded. It became a game. “You’re not expected to know this one,” he said when I was befuddled over a red, a new grape from the Wilamette Valley. He seemed to favor Rieslings and syrahs. In six glasses of wine there wasn’t a single pinot, cabernet, or merlot.

Then came dessert, panna cotta with fresh berries, the flavor of such pure cream we both stopped speaking and simply ate, cleaning the plate. With the dessert came small glasses of both port and sherry.

By this time, the room was blurry. I am not meant to drink this much (11 drinks each, my boyfriend counted). We stumbled out to the car, and I woke up at 4 am not remembering going to bed.

It’s a great place to go if you want to try something new and you’re willing to put up with Phred’s demands. And if you have a good alcohol tolerance.

Maybe next time I’ll go easy on that margarita.